


Love & Peaches

by Jenwryn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, First Time, Humor, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-17
Updated: 2007-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, whenever their relationship starts to get...interesting...someone interrupts. Or, to put it another way: the tree times Rodney and Elizabeth almost had their First Time, and the one time they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love & Peaches

**Author's Note:**

> This was only the second piece of PWP I had ever written and... well, oh well. Anyway, it was written in response to the [Coffee Challenge](http://mcweir.com/archive/challenges.php?chalid=34&;amp;amp;amp;PHPSESSID=50011b27fc23c9cc4d0e3bd775f7da66) over at the [McWeir Archives](http://mcweir.com/archive/index.php).
> 
> Unbeta'd.

'Mmm.' He nuzzled his face against the nape of her neck, breathing in the musky scent of her hair.

Elizabeth was sitting at her desk, head bent over her laptop, working – well, at least, she had _been _working. Now she sat very still, fingers resting gently against the edge of the keyboard and simply enjoyed the feel of his lips against her skin for a few seconds before saying softly, 'Rodney... This office _is _made of glass, you know...'

'What?' He stopped breathing her in, put his head around her shoulder and glanced at her.

'Glass,' she repeated with an amused smile. 'As in, everyone's watching us.'

Which wasn't an understatement. Rodney stared in the direction that her twinkling eyes led him and he watched as a number of their colleagues looked suddenly very busy at their work. He went a little pink.

She grinned at him teasingly. 'You're so cute when you blush.'

'I don't blush,' he protested. Then he shot another glance at their audience – who were all still looking very intently at their tasks for the moment – before leaning in and stealing another kiss. Elizabeth swivelled a little on her chair to kiss him back the better. Showing affection wasn't an issue for her – quite frankly she didn't see how it could possibly affect her position as an authority figure and anyone who was under the deluded impression that her status of being in love meant that she'd gone soft only had to try and cross her, to instantly realise their terrible mistake. It would be different, perhaps, if Rodney were military, but he wasn't, so the point was moot. Now she nibbled at his lip playfully before pulling back slightly and asking happily, but curiously, 'What's gotten in to you today, then? Someone spice up your coffee?'

While public displays of affection might not bother her, she had discovered that it did bother Rodney. Or, at least, it usually did. Not that he had been particularly backwards-in-coming-forwards when they'd been in private, although, admittedly, after two dates they still hadn't moved any further than some very pleasant kissing. Personally, she would have been more than happy to have fast-tracked the whole thing a little, since she knew that what she felt for him had been there inside her for a good few years now. But if he wanted to take it slower, well, then that was fine by her too. Rodney as a gentleman wasn't something she was going to mock. Still, this sudden change of heart wasn't unwelcome and she beamed at him as he sat there, perched on the edge of her desk.

He reached out a hand and rested it against her cheek, trailing his thumb slowly along the rise of her cheekbone. His eyes were dark as he admitted, 'I've been thinking, you know, about... you and me.'

Elizabeth arched her brows, eyes dancing. 'Have you now? I'm flattered that you could find the time for "us" in amongst the rest of your work.'

His thumb paused in its exploration of her face and it was obvious that he was trying to decide if she were reproaching him for being here instead of buried beneath a thousand projects in his lab. She shook her head at him, and placed her hand on his knee. 'I mean that seriously, Rodney. I know how earnest you get once you start wrapping that brain of yours around something. You usually shut the rest of the world out.'

He gave a crooked smile, and glanced through the windows of her office to where a whole bunch of heads jerked rapidly back to their respective computer screens. 'I think you might have a point about the glass,' he conceded wryly.

Elizabeth studied her watch. 'Technically it's late enough for me to take a break. I'm allowed a life as well, you know.' It was true, but something she'd only started to genuinely admit to herself these last few weeks. Thanks, primarily, to Rodney himself. Now she motioned her head towards the windows and said, with a cheeky smile, 'You could, you know, shut them.'

They'd been fiddling with the glass a few days earlier and had discovered that Rodney could darken them at will. Well, so could Sheppard and all the other ATA-carriers but it was Rodney she interested in. He gave he a slightly scandalised, but pleased, look and inquired, 'You don't think that would be a bit... obvious?'  
  
Her hand – hidden from their audience by her laptop – crept up along his thigh and stopped just short of his groin. His smile became a grin.

'I've been thinking about you and me as well,' she admitted, and dug her fingertips in against his trousers.

'I think we've been having the same thoughts,' he mused with a self-satisfied smile. 'Your place or mine?'

It had obviously been way too long since she'd been loved, combined with the fact that it had been a long and frustrating week, and the small point she'd hungered after Rodney for an indecent quantity of time, because her hand finished its deviant journey northwards and she murmured, 'What about right here?'

Shock blinked across his face, then he grinned slowly – Rodney, she just knew it, was easy as they come despite his desperation to be a gentleman – glanced at their audience, and turned the windows black. The move dropped them into semi-darkness, with only the pale evening light leaking in from the balcony side. The smile on Elizabeth's face was saucy. 'So, this whole hypoglycaemia thing... does a woman have to feed you first?'

He crumpled his eyebrows up in a questioning way, baffled by the segue.

She opened the top draw of her desk slowly, pulled out a heavy object and placed it beside him.

'When I said "you and me" I wasn't talking about _eating, _Elizabeth—' But then he stopped dead, realised what it was that he was looking at, and exclaimed, _'Peaches? _My God, I thought they ran out months ago!'

Elizabeth giggled like she hadn't done in years, stood up, and pressed her hand over his mouth. 'Sssh, Rodney. If anyone knew we had the last tin of peaches in the Pegasus Galaxy in here, there'd be more of a fuss than there already will be since they presume we're having wild and unbridled sex.'

She'd chosen her words quite deliberately. A man's heart may in theory be reached by his stomach, but there are other means...

Exactly. He put out his hands, grabbed her by the hips, and pulled her close. 'Can I have them for dessert?' he murmured against her neck and she grinned as his hands slipped beneath her red shirt, pushing up her bra to caress her breasts. Oh, God, yes, it had been much too long—  
  
The doors rattled and somebody knocked against them. 'Doctor Weir! I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something important, but we really need to talk!'

Rodney and Elizabeth jerked apart like teenagers caught in an angry father's torchlight, Rodney dropping the illicit tin of peaches back in its drawer, and Elizabeth desperately trying to get her breasts back into her bra and her t-shirt in place before the doors swung open. Teyla strode in (McKay swore loudly in his head and made a mental note to not just shut the doors, next time, idiot, but lock them and override the system), gave them and their slightly ruffled clothes a suspicious look and then said, 'Doctor Weir, I would like to ask permission to beat the crap out of someone, as Colonel Sheppard would put it.'

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, breathed in a breath that was still a fraction short from the feel of Rodney's hands on her skin and asked, 'I beg your pardon?'

The Athosian woman had, Elizabeth noticed now, a distinctly angry look to her face. 'It's one of the Lieutenants, Doctor Weir. _Every single time_ I turn around, he has his hand on my rear. I've tried every other method, but nothing dissuades him. And so I want permission to knock him unconscious. It's the only solution.'

Rodney chuckled, glanced at Elizabeth meaningfully and said, 'I'll be in my lab.'

She sighed, nodded at him, and then turned her full attention to Teyla. This could take a while.

*  


Half an hour later, with a very chagrined-but-undamaged Lieutenant (and a still slightly blood-thirsty Teyla) sorted out, Elizabeth made her way at a rather fast pace through the halls. The memory of Rodney's hands beneath her shirt had kept rising up and distracting her the entire time and she had decided that if she didn't go now and make him unequivocally hers, she'd go cross-eyed with longing. She reached his lab and slid the door open. Oh, thank God, he's alone. She turned and locked the door, and then crept up behind him and slipped her hands over his eyes, whispering, with hot breath, in his ear, 'The peaches will have to wait, Rodney, because I don't think I can.' She slid her hands down along his front and then brushed them against his crotch, feeling him twitch and harden instantly. She grinned and asked teasingly, 'Is that a torch in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?'

'Oh, God,' he groaned. 'That is so crass, but you know, it kinda works for me.' He slid around beneath her arms and let her pull his shirt off over his head. Seconds later, she was unbuckling his pants. 'This wasn't quite what I had imagined, Lizbeth—' he started,

She looked at him, wide-eyed, and asked, 'Are you seriously going to tell me to stop?' He gave her a slightly wild gaze as an answer and she hooked three fingers into the band of his boxes and added, 'Screw the foreplay, Rodney, I've been walking around with enough mental imagery in my head for the last hour to more than sufficiently have done the job.'

'God, yes,' he managed, reached out his own hand towards her – only to burst out, 'Christ! Shit! The surveillance!'

It had the effect of a bucket of ice water and Elizabeth turned the colour of beetroot; there was public affection, but then there was beyond-kinky... Rodney spun, one hand holding up his trousers, and the other fiddling frantically with a computer.

Just as Elizabeth was starting to see the funny side of it, John Sheppard's voice blared into her radio. 'Ah, Elizabeth, we have – a small problem here.'

McKay, who'd switched the surveillance in his lab off and was now busy erasing the last few minutes footage and, for good measure, the video from her office while he was at it (after all, God only knew what got done with the stuff after it had been archived and she'd probably prefer it didn't come up at her retirement). He rolled his eyes at the voice from the radio.

Elizabeth met his eyes and managed to bite back her laughter before answering, 'Yes, Colonel?'

'I'm – er – in the mess hall. I think you should come see this.'

Rodney and Elizabeth exchanged a frustrated – in oh-so-many ways – glance and she answered, 'Coming, John. Weir out.'

*

This time Rodney tagged along, figuring that he may as well get his dinner now, since she heading in that direction anyway. But they both stopped dead at the door.

Most of the occupants of the mess hall were grouped around, and staring at, a pair in the middle of the room: one very beaten-up Lieutenant, and Teyla, standing beside him with a triumphant look on her face. 'I'm sorry, Doctor Weir,' she gasped as they arrived, her chest still heaving slightly. 'But he did it again. I did say that your method of reasonable explanation would not be effective with a man of such small intellect. Hopefully, when he wakes up, he will no longer look at me in the same light.' She brushed her hands on her slacks and waited for Weir's response.

To the Athosian's surprise, Elizabeth just shook in slight exasperation, before turning on John Sheppard, cross. 'This is what you called me here for? To see that Teyla had kicked the crap out of someone? You couldn't just tell me what had happened over the radio?'

'I didn't think—' he began.

'Well, that's obvious. Did it occur to you that I might be busy, might be in the middle of something?'

A few people glanced at Rodney and his crooked shirt, and exchanged knowing smirks. The smirks didn't go unnoticed and Elizabeth suddenly decided, then and there, that, okay, actually public affection could have its downsides after all, and she experienced the slight sinking feeling brought on by a suspicion that some of the techs might have had the nous to take a peek at the surveillance..

'Somebody get him out of here,' she snapped in the general direction of the Lieutenant, and then stepped over his unconscious body and stalked to the serving counter. If she couldn't have sex, then at the very least she could have dinner.

In the end, Rodney and Elizabeth ended up stuck at the dinner table for almost an hour after she had finished eating, plagued by people with questions or requests or a simple desire to share the time of day with her. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel bad about roaring bubble of impatience bouncing around inside her head  – after all, it was perfectly normal for her to stay a little longer in the mess hall of an evening so that people who didn't have time during the day could catch up with her. It was just... tonight her thoughts were well and truly elsewhere. Which was why, with a streak of abandon the like of which the world hadn't seen from Elizabeth Weir since she'd graduated from college, when most of the people had left, she rose to her feet and swept Rodney with a hot, fierce, greedy gaze that turned him to jelly.

Flushing slightly he said, in a hoarse voice, 'There's a broom closet down the hall...'

'You wicked, wicked man,' she purred back, and let him lead the way.

A mere matter of moments later Elizabeth found herself with her back pressed uncomfortably against a miscellany of tech and cleaning equipment, Rodney's mouth hot against hers, and his hands sliding into her pants, and herself moaning against his shoulder—

—when, to her horror, the door opened and an elderly woman poked her head in. 'Evening, Doctor Weir. Heard you finally got yourself a gentleman friend. Good for you! Healthy for a woman your age. Now, if you wouldn't mind just passing me that there broom, I'll be off and leave you to it.'

There was some rattling, and disconnecting of clothes, and mortified silence, and then the broom was duly handed over and the woman vanished again, shutting the door behind her with a satisfied click. Rodney swore with more imagination than Elizabeth would have given him credit for, before demanding, 'Who the living fuck was that?'

Elizabeth gave up and collapsed into nigh-hysterical laughter. Grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the closet – stupid, stupid, stupid place to consummate a relationship anyway  – she led him towards her own quarters.  'That, Rodney McKay, was one of our cleaners. Her name's Rosemary and, if I remember correctly, she's the great aunt of one of your scientists. Or did you think the city cleaned itself? You saw the state it was in when we arrived her.'

Rodney blinked in astonishment and realised that he'd simply never thought of it before. And, seriously, it was the City of the Ancients, who knew what clever things they'd thought up?

*

Safely ensconced in her quarters, they let the door slide shut behind them. Rodney locked and double-locked the doors. Elizabeth informed the Control Tower that she was not to be disturbed unless the city were actually burning down and even then only if no-one else was available to deal with it. Then she took Rodney's radio, and her own, and switched them off and shut them in a drawer. After which they just stood there and stared around, as though trying to think of something else that could distract them. But there was nothing else.

Still, for a moment, it was as though they were both unwilling to touch the other, for fear that they were somehow jinxed.

Then, when Elizabeth finally breathed out a wavery, long, deep breath, Rodney stepped towards her and took her in his arms and kissed her. Hands and mouths and rough thumbs... Her shirt hit the floor and his own followed it quickly afterwards, even as he was working at the latch of her bra. 'Are we still saying screw the foreplay?' he managed to ask against the pale skin of her neck, kissing/biting/sucking at that little dip above her collar bone and god the taste of her like soap and honey and how could a woman be so fine? 

Her answer was lost in the breathy little gasp his fingers summoned from her as they slid inside her knickers just so. Fingers fumbling, and fucking him by their very presence on his damn skin, she got his pants unbuckled while he caressed her, her breasts pressing against him, her pink-brown nipples rubbing hard against his chest hair, almost painfully so. 'Oh, yes, God, yes, Rodney,' she managed when the words could form in a logical order, 'I need—' The words fell apart again and then he was undressing her completely, and, half-tripping on their discarded clothes, he grasped her by the hips and rose her up against the wall. She curved her legs around him and moaned out when he was finally, God, finally inside her and deep. Somewhere in the depths of her head – or was it her throat – or was it spoken aloud, caught between her teeth and breathing – she mumbled his name in a mantra, her hands clawing his back, his shoulders – his mouth hard against her somewhere – his thumbs marking bruises at her hip bones – and then she came with a cry that old Rosemary, half a corridor away, heard, with a knowing smile, while she mopped the floor. Ah, nice to be young.  
  
*

Rodney held her against the wall for a moment or two after he had come, drinking in the sight of a sweaty and flushed Elizabeth Weir here, before him, alive and breathing and not in a fantasy, and so wonderfully dishevelled and dark-eyed, and it was him who'd made her look like that. Then he untangled her from him and set her down again, with a wince, and admitted, 'My back so hates you for that already.'

'Hates me?' she inquired with a deep chuckle. 'It was your idea.' Then she put her hands atop his shoulders again, more languidly now, smoothing her fingers up and down his arms, curving them around to his back, and rested her head against him, giving herself time to catch her breath. 'I'm sure we can think of a way to make it up to your back.'

He pulled back gently, smiled like a little boy, and asked hopefully, 'Peaches and cake?'

Her eyes expressed oceans of amusement and affection. Trust Rodney to be an orgasm-then-eat kind of guy. 'If you want,' she agreed cheerfully enough. 'I swear to God that was hours of foreplay...'

He groaned the with the contentment of the thoroughly-fucked-in-a-good-way. 'Tell me about it.'

She raked her eyes up and down him again, saucily now, having suddenly appreciated that this was a naked Rodney in front of her and... She smiled. 'Of course, as much as I love peaches and cake, we could always, you know...' She slid her hands slowly, gently, down along his body, fingers barely even touching his skin as she grazed along it. A shiver ran through him as she motioned, with an upwards tilt of her chin, towards the bed.

He met her gaze. 'Mm, yes. I rather think we could.'


End file.
